Mission Discovered
by Baby Hedgehog-Cute but DEADLY
Summary: Jack's a spy, Logan's his secret-but-not-really-a-secret-anymore twin, and Chase is suspicious of both. The trio are joined by their friends and must work together to defeat old enemies with sinister intentions. And then there's Adam the In-Terror-Gator, what's up with that? (Kickin' It/Shake It Up!/Lab Rats xover)
1. Know that New Kid?

**Hey, guys! So this is that spy fic I've been dropping hints about. That preview that I gave like a thousand years ago is probably not even going to be in it, TBH. And this chapter may change. Like, a lot. Just so you know. This fic has been sitting in a word doc getting fatter and more complicated (word doc is 109 pages) and I decided to just post _something._ So, without further ado... **

**_Mission Discovered_ **

* * *

**Location to be determined, Chicago IL 9/3 08:32 AM**

Jack stares up at the building looming above him, stifled dread coiling ominously in his stomach. The painted bricks appear deceptively cheerful, considering the disturbing amount of people who are forced to come here to endure mental, psychological, and at times physical torture on a daily basis. He adjusts the strap slung over his shoulder, the bag filled with basic essentials for survival in this unknown place. All around him are unfamiliar faces, unknown subjects and therefore people to be cautious of. Almost a decade of gun fights, drug lords, recon, and other awesome (and not so awesome) things associated with being a spy, and not one thing he's ever encountered has ever prepared him to face what he's about to go through.

He reigns in a knee-jerk 'stab-first-ask-questions-later' reaction as a football sails past him, missing by an uncomfortably narrow margin and accompanied by a " _Go long!"_

High school.

Ringing sounds throughout the building, the sound harsh and grating on his heightened senses. He locates one of its sources as a bright red bell located near the top of the building, and contemplates climbing up there and destroying it simply out of annoyance when the sound stops. He notices the people around him, his new peers, start flooding into the building. The bell must be some sort of signal for them.

"Jack!"

Jack turns when he hears his name. Standing there, sans the trademark labcoat that Jack is used to seeing him in, is the teen's doctor/guardian/gadget-provider/"dad" JD. The pale scientist's thumbs drum nervously on the steering wheel of his modest suburban.

"Should I… come in with you?"

Jack refrains from rolling his eyes, knowing that the scientist is only concerned… which is funny, because JD shows very little worry at letting Jack loose in a foreign country with known FBI wanted terrorists in the area, but is reluctant to let him go spend eight hours in a high school with a bunch of teenagers that have probably never seen a dead person in their lives. Meanwhile, Jack is currently living with a prototype tranquilizer eating at his insides courtesy of said scientist.

Okay, he's probably being a little melodramatic. The tranquilizer may or may not be eating at his insides. And if it is, it's not really anything that he'd die without; just his forearm. Well, there is the tiny problem of it possibly destroying a bit of brain tissue as well…

Yeah… that.

So, long story short, Jack's "bosses" are part of an organization called CARDINAL. He's been an agent since he was eight, so one might understand his confusion when CARDINAL suddenly decided that he should start living like a "normal teenager," which entailed moving out of his little apartment at CARDINAL headquarters and into a house, having "parents," attending an actual school, and other "normal teenager" stuff.

Jack, of course, didn't take this too well, and refused to go at first. How could he _possibly_ be a normal teenager with what he does on a daily basis? And he can't possibly be expected to look at JD and Marissa as his parents. That's just… no. They're more like an awesome uncle and a scary aunt.

JD (Jack's never known what the letters stand for) is a combination of a reclusive scientific genius and a CARDINAL doctor. Jack seriously wonders why the guy works at a secret spy agency and not at an actual hospital. He's certainly fits the bill of a typical doctor, what with the white coat he's almost walking around in. Then again, though, he has the social skills of a coffee table.

The teen guesses that the scientist could be seen as his father figure, but JD can't even keep track of his own stock of volatile chemicals all the time, let alone a growing child. That's probably why the task of watching over Jack was left to Marissa.

Though, honestly, Marissa's probably not the best "parent" either. Sure, she's a badass silent-but-deadly-ninja type person that would give the Black Widow a run for her money, but she's not the one to go to for raising a child-now-teenager… which is too bad, because that's what CARDINAL did. She was tasked with taking down a headquarters of some enemy agency, and found Jack there. Some genius at CARDINAL decided to have her bring Jack back, and this same genius (note that this is a term laden heavily with sarcasm) decided that Jack was going to be the newest and youngest addition to the organization.

Anyway, so JD was working on a prototype for an extremely potent tranquilizer, and Jack was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They would have just let him sleep it off if it weren't for the fact that the sedative was completely harmless to normal humans but ate through certain types of metal. Add in the fact that Jack has a couple of bionic chips and a robotic forearm, and one starts to understand the problem.

Lucky for him, there was some mysterious inventor/benefactor that knew how to help. Unlucky for him, the man lives in Chicago with his wife, stepson, and three kids. CARDINAL figured this was the perfect opportunity to move Jack, and so during the eight-hour period that he was unconscious, he, Marissa, and JD were relocated to Seaford, a small town on the outskirts of Chicago. Joy.

That was yesterday. Now he's here, starting his first day of high school.

"I'm fine, JD. I'm starting high school, not kindergarten." Not like Jack remembers kindergarten, but he's not going to mention that.

"I know, I know, I just… switch off before you kill someone, alright? Be nice. And making a friend or two wouldn't hurt."

Jack nods in response to the hidden message to _relax,_ but he can't help it. Normally going into a new place he has _some_ idea of an overall objective, like stopping a drug cartel or preventing an assassination, but this? His only instructions were to "fit in and stay out of trouble," given by his mentor Marissa (who's currently on a mission of her own).

This is a whole new ball game.

* * *

 **Cafeteria, Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 08:30 AM**

"…and here's the cafeteria. It's still breakfast right now, and you have about ten minutes left in here before your next period. When you're finished here, there's going to be an assistant teacher at the front office that will lead you to your first class."

"Right, thanks," Jack says politely to the woman that had been leading him around the school. She had brought him to his locker before, so his bookbag is in there. She'd acted nice enough, but a subtle profile of her revealed that she was anxious go smoke a cigarette. Jack turns to the cafeteria, leaving her to go inhale lung cancer. The loud chatter of his new "classmates" hits him in a wall of sound, and he winces. He can already feel the headache coming on.

He surveys the people in the room out of habit, rooting out potential threats. His critical gaze starts at a table filled with athletic-looking girls clad in matching blue, yellow, and white outfits, and ends at a sparsely inhabited table with a scrawny redhead, a chubby dark-skinned kid, and a boisterous Latino. Half of the cafeteria is staring at him, unnervingly aware of the newcomer in their midst. It's kinda creepy.

His mind whirs at a rate vastly contrasting with his seemingly relaxed exterior. He realizes that's he's probably overanalyzing the entire situation, and that there is likely very little chance that someone in this room wants to capture/take revenge on/kill/torture him, but he's learned to never let his guard down after… Taylor…

ANYWAYS, not even the kindly new neighbor to his new house, Mrs. Jones. Considering the fact that he himself has assumed the role of an innocent, oblivious stranger on many occasions, he knows that Mrs. Jones could easily be an enemy agent.

His mind briefly entertains the thought of what would happen if someone actually _did_ manage to track him down. He, Marissa, and JD would probably have to relocate somewhere else. Or he and Marissa could just eliminate the threat entirely…

Meh. Whatever.

Jack walks over to the serving area, apprehensively eyeing the questionable "food." He tries for the friendly approach, and flashes the lunch lady a polite smile. After all, JD _did_ tell him to be nice, despite how rarely Jack sports a genuine smile. (Smirks are cool, though. He tends to smirk a lot.) "I'm new here. What do you suggest?"

The dark-skinned woman raises an eyebrow for a second, before shaking her head and motioning to the food with the tongs in her hand. "Not any of this stuff. I don't even know what half of it _is._ "

Jack blinks. Okay. Note to self: never eat here.

He decides to avoid the confirmed unknown substances that the school system called edible and looks for a place to sit down and wait out the rest of breakfast. Turning and reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his ePod and puts his favorite music playlist on shuffle.

 _"_ _Walk into the club from my taxi cab  
Everybody's lookin' at me now  
Like who's that chick that's rockin' kicks?  
She's gotta be from out of town,"_

Jack swears that his playlist is self-aware to some degree. It occasionally plays certain lyrics that fit whatever situation he's in in an eerie way, and at times they're not even songs on his playlist. This is a perfect example; he wouldn't be caught dead with what sounds like Miley Cyrus on his playlist, but her verse about the feeling of alienation in a new environment accurately summarizes his feelings right now.

Or like the time when he was waiting out a target in an air vent and he started the playlist to pass the time, only for the opening lines of Michael Jackson's _Thriller_ to cause him to instinctively want to look over his shoulder, in time leap out of the vent and out of the range of a pistol aimed at his back.

Yeah. Weird.

He heads to a conveniently empty table, considering leaving the room to escape the growing number of curious stares. In his peripheral vision, he spots a blonde girl tossing an apple up and down. As she passes in front of him, she fumbles it and gravity works its magic on the red fruit as it falls. Without thinking, Jack stops its fall with his foot and launches it back up into the air. He deftly catches it in his hand then then tosses it back to her without missing a beat.

She almost drops it again in surprise, but by the time she's really reacted he's already getting comfortable at the empty table. He draws another chair up to himself to put his feet on, feeling a tap on his shoulder seconds later. Mildly annoyed (because it turns out that _Party in the USA_ is actually kinda catchy), he looks up and sees the girl from before. True, he'd sensed her approach, but he was hoping that she's just walk by and forget the apple thing. No such luck, because she smiles in what is probably meant to be a disarmingly friendly way. He's immediately suspicious.

Another reason Jack doesn't like smiles; you can never trust them. A smirk has a small range of definitions: cockiness, triumph, confidence, 'I-know-something-you-don't. It's always sincere. You can't fake a smirk. A smile, on the other hand, can be horribly misleading. Along with the aforementioned things that define a smirk, a smile can be demeaning, friendly, arrogant, deceptive, deadly, condescending… the list goes on and on. It can be used to lull you into a false sense of security, which really never sits well with the young agent.

Smirks are much safer.

"I already caught your apple," he says in a bored tone, lowering the volume of his music so he could hear her voice better. "You want me to catch a pear, too? Maybe a kiwi, as well, while we're at it." Gotta love sarcasm.

She frowns (much better). "Chill, Logan, I just wanted to say thanks for catching my apple."

Jack blinks in a rare moment of unguarded surprise/confusion. Did she just call him _Logan?_ The name triggers something, a memory perhaps, but he's having trouble latching onto it. He tries to focus on it, because it could be a memory from the childhood that he can't remember. What the heck?

(Angsty-spy-backstory time!) The farthest back that Jack can remember is waking up in a car with Marissa when he was eight. As far as he knows, he was apparently in a car accident when he was seven. This accident killed his parents and sibling and is the reason he has a robotic hand and leg. Then, as the story goes, he was kidnapped by a bunch of enemy spies posing as paramedics. This, of course, makes absolutely no sense because what the heck do a bunch of spies want with a seven-year-old? Sadly, neither JD nor Marissa have ever told him the answer to this question. Anyway, the genius guys that run CARDINAL decide to have Marissa raise their new eight-year-old charge as one of their agents, and so here he is.

He gets flashes of memories occasionally, but never really anything concrete. And the only tangible thing that he has from his "childhood" is a dark brown leather strap about a half an inch wide, with a pale orange hemisphere on top of it. It used to be a necklace, but Jack decided to convert it to a more easily manageable bracelet. Despite the fact that it has no obvious or visible purpose, he has never had the heart to throw it away.

"My name isn't Logan…?"

Confusion floods the blonde's features. "Huh. It isn't? I'm normally really good with names…" She shrugs, brushing it off. "Sorry." The smile appears, a bit cocky this time (see what he meant?!). "I'm Kim."

"…Jack." After all, JD _did_ tell him to be nice. Jack supposes an introduction accompanies that. According to Marissa and JD, their family name is 'Anderson,' but Kim did not supply her last name so Jack guesses it's appropriate to do (or not do) the same. Plus, his built-in lie detector has not gone off, so at least she's being sincere.

"Jack," she repeats, as if getting a feel for his name. "Well, if you're not Logan, then you're new. I guess I should have figured, since you still have that weird new-guy smell. I'm just gonna be nice and tell you that it's not a good idea to sit here. Me doing that is better than you having to find out for yourself."

Out of everything she just said, one thing stuck out at him.

"…'new-guy smell?'"

What does that mean?! Should he be concerned? Is she implying that he will be put through some kind of torture that will cause him to smell a certain way?

"That's not the important thing."

"I have a _smell?"_ Should he tell JD and Marissa? Is everyone at this school in danger without even realizing it? What—

"You shouldn't sit here!" she says, getting a little frustrated. Jack blinks, once again surprised. Who knows? Maybe it'll drive her away and hopefully she'll avoid him in the future. Then he can worry about this supposed 'new guy smell' (or lack thereof?) instead of having to deal with some clingy girl he happened to catch an apple for… Oh, wait. JD said to make friends. Jack hasn't spent time with people around his age in a while, but something tells him that this isn't the way to go.

Ugh. Being social is _so_ tedious.

He decides to drop the smell thing. No one seems to be _too_ concerned about it, and if it was really something to watch out for then JD's thorough background check of the school probably would have brought it up. Right?

"Why is that?" Jack asks, responding after the split second it took for that entire train of thought to cease in his mind.

"Because it's _our_ table," a new voice says. Noting the hostility in the tone, Jack looks up and sees four guys in similar uniforms with red, white, and black on them. The one who spoke is taller than the other three and has a mess of curly brown hair.

"You sure about that?" Jack says with a raised eyebrow as he looks over at the table from earlier with the uniformed girls. "Because it looks like you guys would fit in better over there." It's half insult half serious, because people in uniform tend to stay together so shouldn't they be over there? And there's probably a term for those girls… hmm. Maybe he should have taken up Marissa's invitation to watch a marathon of stereotypical high school movies.

"We're not cheerleaders!" the same guy says indignantly. Jack files the word away for future use. The guy glares at one of his buddies and punches him in the arm. "Well, _Brian_ used to be."

'Brian' frowns and looks away. Jack is surprised again, but manages to mask it this time with a bored expression, the ease of doing so coming from years of practice. Revealing an ally's flaw? Is that a normal method of intimidation here? That's incredibly dumb… but okay.

"So," the guys steps forward, cracking his knuckles before doing a series of karate hand motions that are probably meant to add to his intimidation routine (the routine that has already been diminished in Jack's eyes because of the whole 'revealing an ally's weakness' thing). "The name's Frank, new kid. We're the Black Dragons. You got a problem or something?"

Jack rolls his eyes, standing up. This guy isn't even a blip on his 'formidable enemies' radar, and isn't worth engaging. He could take the other teen down (and his buddies) with very little effort. His brain has deduced all of the other's likely weak spots (which are numerous) and surprise attacks to look out for (next to nothing), but he's really not looking forward to getting into a fight on his first day of school.

As he's walking away, Frank for _some_ unfathomable reason decides that it would be a good idea to try punch Jack from behind. Jack deftly catches the fist from over his shoulder and raises a bemused eyebrow. How _unfriendly_ of Frank. And here Jack was willing to walk away… but he can't just let this go, now can he?

"You _probably_ shouldn't have done that."

Twenty seconds later, the four beaten and bruised "Black Dragons" are left to try to gather the remains of their dignity as Jack casually strolls out of the cafeteria. (Dramatic exits are his guilty pleasure. There's nothing he loves more than walking away as something is exploding and being so cool that he doesn't even have to turn around to look at it. This wasn't an explosion, but he still feels the satisfaction).

* * *

 **Before 1** **st** **period, Hallway, Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 08:32 AM**

Rocky Blue doesn't think she has ever been more worried about a guy in her life.

She hasn't been able to focus all morning. Her mind has been on the incident from the day before. She's grateful when the bell rings, giving her an excuse to loiter by CeCe's locker for a few minutes as she waits for her best friend. Unfortunately, that only gives her even more of an opportunity to freak. The volume of her peers around her does nothing to provide a distraction.

CeCe had been bugging Logan yesterday morning by ordering from Bob's Kebabs and then figuring out a way to point out something wrong with whatever he brought, forcing him to go back, fix it, and return with the modified order. She'd been just about to tell CeCe to stop after her best friend had ordered for the fourth time, when Logan arrived again. Flynn had opened the door, and then CeCe came up and started teasing Logan again, then…

He'd just collapsed.

She'd rushed over to him, scared out of her wits. Rocky remembers taking control of the situation, somehow managing to think clearly through her panic, ordering CeCe to go get his father, calling Logan's name, telling him to stay awake… she thinks he responded to her voice, because he'd turned his head towards her, but then passed out right after. He'd been so… so… _still._ She had to force herself to keep a cool head and think. She managed to temporarily shut off her emotions and remember what to do and what not to do when someone passes out.

Logan's dad arrived and sat with them. When Logan hadn't awaken after two minutes, they'd called 911. They'd all piled into Mr. Hunter's car and followed the ambulance.

Logan had been unconscious for eight hours.

Eight excruciating hours that Mr. Hunter stayed by the teen's bedside for every minute of. Rocky would have done the same, but CeCe had gently forced her to get up and get something to eat by the fourth hour at around two.

When the teen did wake up, the first word out of his mouth was "cardinal," followed by something about not wanting to move states. When asked about it later on, he had no recollection of ever mentioning anything about a bird. Mr. Hunter was near tears when Logan woke up. Rocky had seen for the first time just how deep the bond between father and son was as they exchanged words, the elder's relieved and the younger's confused.

The doctors could find nothing wrong with Logan medically. They even did a CT scan to see what was going on with his head, but told the Hunters that they wouldn't be able to see the results until the next morning (a.k.a. today). Until the results came in, the doctors blamed Logan's blackout on exhaustion and stress. With no other reason to keep him at the hospital they released him later that night, though he's supposed to go back with his dad this morning to get the results.

Because of this fact, Rocky is completely and utterly surprised when she sees him walking down the hallway before first period.

 _'_ _What is she doing here?'_ she thinks. _'I thought he was at the doctor's?'_ He's also changed his hair style, which is weird because he's very particular about his hair; it now cascades down in waves and seems more voluminous than it was before.

That, and he's also lacking his signature beanie. Definitely a red flag. That thing rarely leaves his head outside of work. She calls out his name. He doesn't turn around, but slows down slightly. At first she thinks he heard her, but then she sees him take an ePod out of his pocket and realizes he couldn't have heard her due to the presence of the bright orange earbuds snaking up to his ears. (She thought his earbuds were green, what the heck?)

Rocky frowns, abandoning the decision to wait for CeCe. "Logan!" she calls again, crossing the hall and standing in front of him. This time he looks up, raising an eyebrow and taking out an earbud as she approaches.

"Logan, what are you doing here? Aren't you going to the doctor's?" Rocky supposes that his dad could have just gone without Logan, but she knows her boyfriend well enough to know that he would have wanted to go along with his father. Though there is something… _off_ about him. She's not quite sure what it is, but it's a bit unnerving and she doesn't like it.

"Excuse me?" Even the way he _speaks_ is different.

"Come on, Logan," she says gently, stepping closer to him. She frowns, hurt, when he moves away. Is he mad at her? "I'm worried about you. Maybe you should take a couple days off from school or—"

"Look, I'm sorry, you've got me mistaken for someone else," he interrupts, sounding a little confused.

"Hey, Rocky, what's going on?" CeCe's voice says as she suddenly materializes next to her friend. She notices the male and frowns. "Logan?"

"What is it with you people?" apparently-not-Logan asks, confusion morphing into annoyance. "That's the third person today. My name isn't Logan, it's Jack. I've never seen you guys before in my life."

CeCe puts a hand on her hip, a telltale sign of a barbed retaliation. "Okay, I don't know what kind of sick joke you're pulling, but I already said I was sorry for yesterday, so you can go—"

"CeCe," Rocky says softly, cutting her friend off. She'd watched the exchange and thinks that maybe, _maybe,_ this is just someone who happens to look strikingly similar to her boyfriend. This Jack guy, his mannerisms are off. Different from Logan's. It's in the way he speaks, the way he holds himself, the way he's addressing them, and the way he seems to be oozing a casual confidence (and danger?). She can just tell.

Huh. Funny how much you learn about the people you care about.

"I'm sorry we bothered you," Rocky apologizes, backing away. She grabs a protesting CeCe's arm and drags her away. As she's walking, her text tone goes off. She pulls out her phone and stares at the message from Logan.

 _'_ _On my way back from the hospital. :)'_

* * *

 **Outside hospital parking lot, Chicago, IL 9/3 08:32 AM**

"Well, I guess you're good, Little Scooter," Jeremy Hunter says, clapping his son happily on the back before climbing into the driver's seat of his pickup.

"Yeah," Logan responds, relief evident in his voice. "Don't call me that," he adds in a halfhearted grumble, though both males know that he secretly doesn't mean it. The stupid nickname's kinda grown on him. The teen rests his head on the pleasantly cool window, watching as the hospital parking lot falls behind them.

 _'_ _You're fine, Logan. Nothing came up in the scan, so you're good to go,'_ the doctor had said. Thank _god._ Both father and son alike had been freaking (though Logan had internalized his panic more than his father) at the prospect of something seriously wrong with the younger Hunter.

After all, the last medical scare either of them had experienced was a case of serious smoke inhalation on the elder Hunter's part. Though that kinda comes with the job description, since the man's a fire fighter and all.

Logan texts his girlfriend, telling her he's on his way to the school. Then his mind wanders as buildings and people that make up Seaford fly by the window in a blur. It's always been just the two of them, him and his father. Or at least, as far back as Logan can remember. He was in some kind of accident when he was younger. He was around seven years old at the time, and whatever accident it was killed his birth parents and sibling and caused a severe case of amnesia.

He doesn't remember anything about his life before the accident or the accident itself. He gets small flashes of memory now and then, like the screams of a woman he assumes is his mother and a small, shaking hand covered in blood, but nothing else definite. He was dropped off in an adoption center by an unknown person, unconscious and unloved, and he lived there for almost a year before Jeremy found him.

He really appreciates his adoptive father. Jeremy is an amazing man, and sometimes they act more like siblings than they do father and son. Mr. Hunter spends a lot of time at home because he doesn't have a second job besides being a firefighter, and that means plenty of time for the two males to bond; they're incredibly close. But as much as Logan loves his father, he can't help but wonder about his past every now and then.

The only things he has left from that previous life are a long scar that runs diagonally on his abdomen (from the accident) and a simple necklace made up of a black string and a light green hemisphere about the size of a marble. Footsteps approach the door as he muses about the necklace. He doesn't know what the trinket represents, but he's never wanted to get rid of it.

He doesn't think that he ever will learn anything about his past, either. Logan and his dad moved up to Chicago from Arizona about a couple years after he was adopted. Not long after that, they learned that the adoption center burned down in a freak fire. All the records were hard copies, so what little they had on Logan was destroyed. All the children inside died as well. The Hunters went back to Arizona for the funerals. Logan remembers crying, mourning for fellow children that were taken before their time even though he never really was that close to any of them.

A sudden wave of annoyance interrupts his train of thought, and he's wondering how many people are going to mistake him for Logan. As suddenly as it came, it's gone, leaving the teen confused. What the heck was that? He _is_ Logan, why would he think about someone mistaking him for himself…?

* * *

 **1** **st** **Period, Mr. Squires' room (Advanced Math), Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 08:40 AM**

Rocky is staring. She can't help it. This person, this _Jack,_ who looks so much like her boyfriend it's scary… he just freaking

WALKED IN

and

SAT.

NEXT TO HER.

HE'S IN HER CLASS.

After walking in and giving the room a cursory scan (probably for an empty seat) he starts walking towards her group, which consists of herself, a redhead named Milton, and two stepbrothers named Leo and Chase. The only available seats are side by side, next to her. Just her luck. He nods in greeting to the four of them and then sits down.

She tries to subtly study his facial expressions when he's not looking at her, searching for anything that would reveal "Jack" as Logan. (She'd like to note that subtly is _not_ her strong suit). After all, Logan's a normal teenage boy. Pulling pranks is a given. It's just that he's never done something so… pointless? No, that's not the right word, but every little trick he's ever pulled has always had an immediate effect. This doesn't seem like something he would do. And despite the fact that she's decided Jack isn't him, she still has her doubts.

After all, he _had_ texted her this morning telling her where he was going and to wish him luck. It's the perfect alibi for his lack of an appearance… though it's not something he would lie about. And just a few minutes ago he'd texted her saying he's on his way back from the hospital…?

Look at him, sitting up there with his feet up on the chair next to him like he owns the place. Did she do something to annoy him? Because Logan knows how much she hates feet on desks. And of _course_ he had to sit next to her. (Then again, the desk next to hers _is_ the only one available in the classroom, but she'd like to pretend that he had a choice so she's just going to ignore that little fact.) If he's trying to screw with her, he's doing a great job of it.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Rocky utters a mental pseudo-curse realizing she'd been caught (even though he wasn't looking at her, what the heck?). She opens her mouth to defend her actions and possibly apologize for the confrontation from minutes ago when—

"Mr. Hunter, Ms. Blue, is there something you two would like to share with the class?" Mr. Squires asks, raising an eyebrow. "After all—" The man seems to do a double take. "Mr. Hunter? Why are you in here? I don't have you until next period."

"I'm not sure who 'Mr. Hunter' is," Jack says, looking bored. "I can only assume it's this Logan guy that everyone's mistaking me for. My name is Jack. I just moved here."

Mr. Squires raises a dubious eyebrow "Riiiight. Enough with the fun and games, Mr. Hunter. What class are you supposed to be in right now? And you know you should address me as 'sir.'"

"Yours, and if you looked at your mailbox this morning instead of complaining about the lack of coffee in the coffee pot, then you would have seen the notice about you having a new student in your first period." And then, as if in afterthought, " _Sir._ "

Rocky stares, along with every other person in the class. True, earlier this morning, everyone within a thirty foot radius of the teachers' lounge heard Mr. Squires making a fuss about how empty the coffee pot was, and that there were no more coffee grounds in the bag. Fed up, Coach Trent (who had a short temper to begin with) finally yelled that there was "another bag in cupboard if you opened your beady little eyes for once."

Still, no student had ever _dared_ to call out Mr. Squires whenever he had one his little "coffee tantrums" (as the students liked to call them)… until now. After getting over the initial shock, some people start snickering. Across from her, Leo disguises a snort of laughter with a cough into his fist, while Chase and Milton try to cover up 'okay-I-know-I-shouldn't-laugh-but-that-was-pretty-funny' expressions. Rocky effectively hides her giggle with rest of her hand.

Mr. Squires, on the other hand, is rapidly approaching the color of a tomato. He opens his mouth, and then closes it. It's as if his fury has completely impeded his ability to speak. " _Fine,_ " the balding man hisses. "I'll play along with your _stupid_ little game, for now. I'm not sure where you came from, _Jack,_ but here at Seaford Hughes Creek, you do _not_ speak to teachers that way."

"Please," Jack scoffs. "You're just mad that I called you out on your little tantrum. What are you, five? You're a _teacher_. You're supposed do stuff like finding your own stupid coffee and catching yourself before making a mistake in an equation that's going to be presented to a classroom-full of advanced students."

Rocky blinks, wondering what he's talking about at first. Then she realizes he's addressing the math equation the man had written out and solved on the board. She quickly scans the problem, searching for the fault. Oh. There it is. Two times three isn't five. Rookie mistake.

She turns her head slightly to look at Jack. This class just got a whole lot more interesting.

* * *

 **Chapters are going to be kinda weird structurally... but more on that later. Imma go post this now. Mmkay, bye.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~BH**


	2. Really Suspicious

**3** **rd** **Period, Mrs. Erdman's room (Advanced English), Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL, 9/3 10:19 AM**

Jack likes to think that his poker face is at least comparable to Marissa's. He's extremely good at keeping his expression completely blank, revealing nothing. He's also great at manipulating his face into whatever emotion he wants to reflect and, quickly reacting to and rolling with whatever comes his way. Surprises are a given in his field of work, and he's used to dealing with them.

That being said, when the first thing he hears upon entering his third period class is "Oh, look! Our sacrifice has arrived!" (coming from the teacher no less), he's quick to respond apologetically, "Yeah, sorry I'm late, hopefully Tlaloc doesn't mind."

Some students stare at him blankly, but without missing a beat the teacher says, "He doesn't care, all he asks is that you have plenty of tears to shed."

"Ooh, that might be a problem 'cause, see, I sacrificed my tear ducts last year, so…"

"Oh, well then you're useless then. Go offer up to Quetzalcoatl or something, I hear he's still hungry."

"Really? Isn't he fat enough?"

"You better not let him hear you say that."

"Or he'll what? Eat me?"

And then, for the first time in a long time, Jack can no longer keep a straight face. He laughs. The teacher cracks a smile as well, before turning to the class. "He's a keeper, ladies!" she proclaims in a stage whisper. "And I can see that a lot of you are looking lost, so who in here could actually keep up with that little exchange?"

A couple of people raise their hands, and Jack realizes that one of them is Milton. He quickly scans the class for any other familiar faces; Kim is the only other person he recognizes. She flashes him a smile when they make eye contact. He finds himself smiling back.

"Milton?"

"They were both Aztec gods. Tlaloc was the god of rain, and crying children were offered to him as human sacrifices. Quetzalcoatl was feathered serpent spirit god… thing, and he may or may not have been offered sacrifices as well, though no one's really sure."

"Good!" Mrs. Erdman says, clapping her hands together once. She's a portly old woman, with long silvery-blonde hair and glasses that frame amused blue eyes. She seems like the fun type, but Jack has his guard up like he would with any other person. "Brushing up on your social studies while in English, who would've thought? Now. Class, this sacrifice—" She gestures to Jack. "—happens to have a name, which is…"

"Jack."

"Jack!" she says in an 'I-totally-knew-that' tone. "Why don't you sit next to…" She scans the room. "Kim. That way she won't be lonely her _whole_ life." She says it with a teasing smile, so Jack knows she didn't really mean it.

"Me and my lonely self—"

"Grammar!" Mrs. Erdman sings.

"My lonely self _and I_ are actually having quite a lot of fun back here," Kim shoots back, but she moves her bag off of the seat next to her anyway. Jack walks over and sits next to her.

"Okay, guys," Mrs. Erdman says. "Warm-up's on the board. White boy! Please come see me."

Jack is confused when a black student stands up and walks over to Mrs. Erdman's desk, (he later learns that the other male's last name is White) but quickly shrugs it off and focuses on the SMART board.

In the upper corner is a Lego Hans Solo, and next to it is a timer counting down from fifteen minutes. A paragraph reads _"Complete the worksheet you were given on Tuesday ALONE and INCOGNITO and HANS SOLO. No Chewbacca allowed. Offenders will be caught and 'pew pewed.'"_

Even though he has that initial distrust of her that he has with everybody, Jack decides in that moment Mrs. Erdman is awesome.

* * *

 **3** **rd** **Period, Mr. Leech's room (History), Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 10:19 AM**

"Hey, have you seen that guy Jack?" Eddie asks a sulking Logan. "He _really_ looks like you."

"You're looking right at him, Eddie," CeCe drawls before Logan can answer, rolling her eyes. "Jack is just Logan messing with everyone."

"I wish," Logan scoffs. "But sadly, that's not the case. He's the reason I have detention and I haven't even _met_ the guy yet."

"What?" Deuce asks, surprised. Even Dina looks up from her phone in curiosity at Logan's statement. "What happened? You like, _never_ get detention."

The five of them pause in tense suspense along with the rest of the class, as the snores coming from a napping Mr. Leech momentarily cease. When they resume, the class relaxes and goes back to doing whatever it is they're not supposed to be doing.

"So… yesterday I kinda collapsed," Logan says.

"Woah, what? Are you okay?" Dina asks, concerned.

"Yeah, Ty told me Rocky was freaking out about that," Deuce says.

Logan shrugged, not so sure himself. CeCe had been goofing off and annoying the heck out of him by ordering kebabs and then deciding that she didn't like them. Then, well… he'd showed up again, for the _fourth_ time, and that's when it hit him; this weird, sharp pain in the back of his head that set off a wave of fatigue and dizziness, like something in his brain had just snapped. He didn't even realize when he collapsed on the ground, but the last thing he remembers is Rocky showing up, and then… nothing.

The doctors had chalked it up to exhaustion after finding nothing wrong with him. He really doesn't think so, though. If it was exhaustion, wouldn't he have felt tired throughout that entire day, or been more _exhausted?_ No, this wasn't exhaustion, of that Logan's sure.

And as if yesterday wasn't bad enough, now he's got detention because there's some guy named 'Jack' walking around and Squires thinks it's just Logan messing with him. When he walked into second period about an hour ago, he couldn't even get a word in edgewise to even _attempt_ to explain himself. So yeah, he's feeling a bit peeved at this Jack person.

Then again… it's not Jack's fault that he and Logan look alike. But Logan needs a scapegoat and Jack fits the bill. So there.

As if sensing his thoughts, CeCe begrudgingly says, "It was kinda my fault…"

Logan sighs. "No it wasn't, CeCe, I've already told you that." Still feeling a little vindictive, he adds, "But you didn't exactly _help_ either. Anyway, I went to the doctor's this morning so they could look at me again — I'm fine by the way — but I had to miss first period. When I showed up to second period Squires flipped out and said I was playing a joke on him or something and Mrs. Erdman is awesome." Wait, what?

"…what?" Dina says.

"I mean, not that I don't agree, but…" Eddie trails off.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Logan doesn't even know how to explain that. Sure, he loves Mrs. Erdman, but that has nothing to do with what they're talking about right now. That… kinda felt like he tapped into someone else's head for a minute there. Weird.

* * *

 **7** **th** **period, Gymnasium with Coach Trent, Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 1:52 PM**

So, apparently this Logan guy is really popular.

Or at least, many of the people that Jack has encountered today seem to know him. First there was Kim in the cafeteria, then there were two girls that called him out in the hallway after he left the beaten Black Dragons, an insane math teacher (who Jack, admittedly, had fun messing with) and a science teacher that could not get over the fact that it he was not Logan.

Marissa found out about his "little stunt" in the cafeteria (if it were anyone else Jack would be incredibly disturbed, but Marissa seems to know _everything_. Her knowing about the fight, despite the fact that it happened merely hours ago and the fact that she is in another country on a mission, is not very surprising). She threatened that if he didn't "play nice" and "make friends like normal people your age," then she would "get mean." This is a lot more frightening than it sounds, so Jack promised to do his best to be a social butterfly. Well, a social butterfly may not be the best term to describe him. He really cannot picture himself as a butterfly, fluttering around and being incredibly annoying. A social spider seems a bit more accurate.

It's a bit ironic, though. Marissa is the one that warns him to always be on guard on missions, to never completely trust anyone. And now she's telling him to make friends, which is pretty much trusting people is it not? Can anyone _really_ be a friend if they're not trusted? Jack doubts it. Plus, the last friend he had is now dead.

Jack doesn't like to think about it.

Nevertheless, Jack might be well on the way to making what might be considered a "friend." Earlier, in his first class, he met a guy named Milton. He's not a giant idiot like most of the people at this school seem to be, and despite not even knowing him for a full day, Jack respects what little of the other teen that he has seen.

So his classes, in order, are Geometry, Chemistry, English, and World History. Then there's a "private tutoring session" with the assistant principal that lasts two class periods (which actually turned out to be a replacement training session since Jack can't do his daily workout anymore what with school and all), and then physical education. Jack shares two of those classes with Kim, the apple girl from the cafeteria. He found himself almost _smiling_ when he walked into history and saw her there, which is weird because what the _heck_? When's the last time he genuinely smiled at a _girl?_... oh yeah. He'd rather not talk about Taylor. _Moving on._

Last period of the day. "Physical education," or P.E. as the other students seem to call it.

Jack has to admit, he's a little concerned. He's undoubtedly more physically capable than anyone in this room because of his enhanced abilities, and he's slightly worried that something may go wrong. He doesn't have to worry about holding back with Funderburk, since the man is a CARDINAL agent, but in here? Anything could happen.

"Alright, kitties," the gym teacher, Coach Trent, booms (out of all the derogatory things he could have chosen to insult male students' masculinity, that's what he chose. That has to say something about his character. Although, isn't he the guy that called the math teacher out in the teacher's lounge for complaining about the lack of coffee in the pot? Jack has to give him props for that, because anyone within a thirty foot radius of the teacher's lounge heard Mr. Squires complaining.) "We're gonna play dodgeball today." The man grins maliciously, throwing a rubber ball back and forth between his hands.

Dodgeball. Hmm. Never heard of it.

After doing nothing but lazily dodging for a couple minutes (that _is_ what you're supposed to do in dodgeball, right? Dodge? It's in the name) Jack gets bored and decides to throw a ball. After all, he needs to work on toning down his abilities when necessary, and this seems like a perfect way to get some practice.

As if sensing his decision, one of those loathsome rubber balls (he has an unnatural dislike of them for some reason) rolls to a stop at his feet. Jack is practically at the back of the gym or whatever this giant room is called, so the balls have normally lost most of their momentum by the time they get to the back, if they do at all. He picks up the ball. _'Here goes nothing.'_

The ball slices through the air, a deadly rubber missile, and it occurs to Jack that maybe he put a _teensy_ bit too much force behind it. He realizes a split second too late that he probably should have aimed away from someone in case that happened. It sails towards some poor sucker who's ducking down to pick up a ball and—

 _Bonk!_

It bounces off the guy's head, ricochets off and hits another guy in the side, then rebounds off of _him_ and hits a third in the leg. They seem fine, if not surprised, until the first guy keels over. Whoops.

The two conscious ones briefly try to revive the first, before hefting him up by his armpits and dragging him off to what is likely the coach's office. Their team seems stunned by the sudden turn of events that resulted in the loss of three of their players at once, but they quickly recover and seek revenge accordingly. Somehow, none of them look towards little ol' Jack as the culprit. The teen agent lets himself get hit in the arm and walks off to the sidelines to sit out the rest of the game.

Jack thought he was safe after that. No one seems to have noticed the killer throw, which will never cease to amaze him because _really?_ He was the only one back there. Come on. And yet they're all none the wiser; he can tell because he can hear everyone's conversations and after singling out each of them, discovered that they're all buzzing about the ball that took out _Jerry Martinez._

Oh. So that's who he hit. He never did get a good look at the other teen's face before it was full of dodgeball.

"You've got quite the arm," a voice says beside Jack as he's coming out of the locker room. Jack manages to reign in his initial reaction (flip, punch, or stab, whichever is most convenient) as he turns the source of the voice that startled him. Chase, he remembers. Milton introduced the Jack to Chase and his step brother Leo during his first class. Jack also happens to have Chemistry with him. Was the other teen waiting for him?

Jack shrugs, trying to play it off and internally cursing himself for not making sure anybody was watching. "So I've been told." Out of habit, his eyes do a quick but subtle scan of the shorter teen's figure, searching for any bumps or irregularities that would denote the presence of a hidden weapon. Then he realizes what he's doing. _'He's a normal teenager in a normal high school. Just because your favorite dagger's hidden in your shoe doesn't mean that anyone else has weapons. Why would he have any in the first place?'_

Chase scoffs slightly. "So you've been _told?!_ You pegged _Jerry Martinez_ in the _face!_ He's like, the Dodgeball _God_ and you got him out. Cold, in fact. How did you do that?" He's talking at a normal level, unlike half of all the other walking sacks of testosterone in here who are practically yelling their conversations for the entire world to hear. No, random guy, Jack does _not_ want to know about the fungus you found in your locker.

"I used to play baseball," Jack lies smoothly, heading towards the gym doors like everyone else is doing while they wait for the bell to ring. "I was my team's pitcher."

"Oh, okay. Cool." Jack studies Chase's expression out of the corner of his eye. The way the shorter teen said that kinda put him on edge. Like he _knows_ Jack is lying. Chase is suspicious for some reason. Why's that? He's got nothing to be suspicious of… oh, who is Jack kidding? When it comes to him, there is _everything_ to be suspicious of. Chase _could_ just be curious about the new kid, but he seems a bit _too_ curious. Suspicion means he's smart. Smart is dangerous. Jack needs to watch out for him.

The weird thing is, when Jack walked into Geometry that morning, he thought he recognized the other teen. After sorting through his memory back for a couple seconds, though, he deduced that he didn't know Chase from anywhere. Jack remembers everyone that he's ever met or learned about due to an enhanced mental database. That, and thinking about it temporarily worsened the mild headache he already had. He's never strained his chips just by _thinking_ before, so he figured he should stop.

There's a beat of awkward silence between them. Then, "Have we… met, before?"

Huh. Jack isn't the only one with déjà vu, then. "You mean before this morning? I dunno. I thought I recognized you when I walked into Geometry, but I don't remember you from anywhere."

"Same here," Chase says, looking thoughtful. So maybe he's not suspicious; maybe he just wants to figure out where they've seen each other before. "I think I knew your name was Jack _before_ Milton introduced you. Maybe passing each other on the street or something?"

"That's not possible, I just moved here," Jack reminds him. The young agent stops walking next to the bleachers a short distance away from the group of students beginning to congregate at the door, and after a second Chase does the same. Jack isn't all the way comfortable being around large groups of people, especially one this _loud,_ so he'll keep his distance if he can help it.

"Right, right." Chase's lips are pursed slightly, eyebrows drawn in concentration. Jack is thinking, too, of all the different countries he's been in, or the different states and cities in the U.S. Again, he feels the headache worsening. Headaches normally signify something going on with his chips, so he stops before he overloads his system. The last time that happened, he was running on adrenaline and whatever strange power the chips give him, and when that adrenaline wore off he crashed. Literally. He was driving a speedboat.

(Luckily, he was only putting some distance between himself and an illegal weapons factory that he'd just blown up. No one came after him, thank god. He passed out and the boat probably kept going until it hit some shoreline. He assumes that its engine kept running until it used up all the gas. He couldn't tell because he was, you know, unconscious. According to JD, he was out for almost a full day. )

Jack debates asking Chase if he's ever lived anywhere else, ready with the excuse that he himself used to move around a lot. But he really shouldn't give out unnecessary information. Then again, he supposes if he's gaining a potential ally—er, _friend_ — then Chase should know a _little_ about him. Although, he's tried that before and—

"Hey, Logan! Nice— whoa, _oof._ "

Jack blinks, staring at the person he'd just flipped. He'd only just managed to restrain the urge to whip his dagger out of his shoes and interrogate the other teen at knifepoint. It's not Jack's fault. As he's already said, his first instinct is to attack or stab at sudden assailants. The other male just came out of nowhere, accompanied by a sudden onslaught of noise and a slap on Jack's shoulder that set the teen agent off and made him go on the defensive. He shouldn't have surprised Jack like that. Then again, Jack supposes high school is full of little surprises like that. He's gotta be careful or he might accidentally stab someone. So much for "relaxing and acting like a normal teenager."

High school is so _complicated._

"Wow. Okay, that hurt," the teen (now on the ground) groans.

"Sorry," Jack says, offering a hand and hoping those headphones around the other male's neck aren't broken. Jack shoots a cold glare at any bystanders, and they start to walk away. Nothing to see here. "You surprised me. And it's Jack, not Logan. Apparently I really look like him, but I just moved here yesterday."

The other teen blinks, looking surprised. "Really?" He leans closer, a little too close for comfort. " _Wow._ You really look like him." He leans back. "Note to self: don't surprise new kid," he says, but he offers an easy-going smile to show that Jack is forgiven. Like Jack cares if he's forgiven or not. No, wait, he's supposed to be making friends. Ugh. "I'm Deuce," the other male says, and Jack nods in acknowledgement.

"You take martial arts?" Chase asks, after witnessing the exchange.

"I dapple," Jack says. (Understatement of the century, _ha_.)

"What belt are you?" Chase asks.

"Third-degree black," Jack responds. Okay, maybe Jack should have lied that time.

"You call that _dappling_? You seem to enjoy downplaying your abilities. That's still cool, though." Chase has the physique of a martial artist, now that Jack think about it, but he notices that the spiky-haired teen doesn't share his belt ranking. Should Jack ask?

"Awesome job taking out my cousin," Deuce says, grinning. "That was great! How do you throw like that?"

"I used to be a pitcher for a baseball team," Jack responds, repeating the same lie he told Chase (and silently rethinking how many people could have seen him throw that ball). Deuce nods like that's an acceptable answer.

"I'm guessing you're the Jack that took out those Black Dragons in the cafeteria this morning?" he asks.

Jack nods, allowing a cocky smirk. "The one and only."

Deuce grins again. He seems to do that a lot. "It's great that someone finally knocked them down a notch. I think we're all tired of them at this point.

He stops and scrutinizes Jack again. "Are you _sure_ that you're not just Logan screwing with me?"

"No, I've just been lying to you this entire time."

Deuce stares.

Note to self: tone down on sarcasm. "I'm kidding."

"Chase!" What is it with the people here loudly inserting themselves into other people's conversations?! The newcomer is tall, taller than Jack is by a few inches (which is saying something, because Jack himself is 5'9"). Jack thinks he's the guy from earlier, the one with the fungus in his locker. "Hey, little bro, did you see the guy that took out Jerry? That ball went came out of nowhere! It's almost like that time I threw that—"

"He's right here, Adam," Chase interrupts, motioning to Jack with a brief 'are-you-stupid?-shut-up' look on his face aimed in Adam's direction. Jack doesn't miss it, and wonders what Adam was about to say. Jack also files the fact that they're brothers away in one of his many brain drawers.

Adam turns to Jack, head cocking to the side in curiosity. "Logan? I didn't know you were in this class. I thought you had Business Management this period." He leans toward Jack, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jack tenses and leans back. Does the term 'personal space' mean anything around here? "Unless you're Logan's secret twin?" Adam whispers conspiratorially.

"Wha- No, I'm not Logan's secret twin. My name's Jack," Jack says, with a small frown. Secret twin? How would that even work?

"Oh." Adam leans back, looking slightly disappointed, but then he brightens again. "If you are, your secret's safe with me," he whispers too loudly, and then winks in an exaggerated manner. Behind him, Chase rolls his eyes. Jack gets the feeling that something like this isn't abnormal for Adam.

"So, little bro," Adam says, throwing an arm around an unamused Chase's shoulder. "We have a job to do." Chase raises an eyebrow at his brother, silently asking… something. Adam nods almost imperceptibly.

The final bell rings, and both Jack and Chase wince. Jack knows he himself isn't quite used to the bell yet, but why did Chase flinch? Maybe the sound startled the other teen. Loud noises like that can surprise someone who isn't paying attention.

"Well, we'll be seeing you later, then," Chase says. For a brief second, there's a peculiar expression on the other teen's face that Jack can't identify. But just as soon as it was there, it's gone, leaving Jack to wonder if there was even anything worth noticing in the first place. Chase straightens and shrugs Adam's arm off of his shoulder, seemingly annoyed. With that, the two brothers walk away.

* * *

 **Underground lab, Davenport residence, Chicago IL 9/3 4:20 PM**

"Hey, Mr. Davenport?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it possible for me to… forget someone?"

The question had been on Chase's mind ever since he left the school and throughout the (extremely brief, it barely took ten minutes) mission they'd gone on after P.E.. He feels like he knows Jack, or at least _knew_ him at some point, and it's really bugging him. Where has he seen the other teen before?

And why doesn't he remember it?

Prior to that day, Chase had never met the "Logan" that both Deuce and Adam (and Mr. Squires) mistook Jack for. However, right after leaving the gym, Chase happened to glance through the window of a nearby classroom, one that was usually reserved for detention. Sitting there, right next to the windows with his head resting on one hand and a dejected look on his face…

…was a guy that looked _exactly_ like Jack.

He'd stood there gaping for a few moments before Adam had helpfully informed Chase that his mouth would make the perfect fly-catcher.

When Chase meets a new person, someone that isn't already in his database, his facial recognition app brings up pre-existing faces of similar looking people and calculates the resemblances into percentages. As expected, seeing Logan brought Jack up in his database… but the facial match was _ninety-four percent_. The most that Chase had ever seen was just over sixty!

The resemblance between the two is almost scary. It's not _possible_ for two people to look that similar, unless they were twins or clones or something like that. Well, them being twins is more likely, because a match with a clone probably would be a hundred percent. Then again, their hairstyles were a little different…

But twins? How would that be possible? According to Jack, he'd never met Logan before, and had just moved to Seaford Hughes Creek the day before. Chase has heard of twins separating at birth and going years without knowing about the other's existence before finally meeting, but only in movies and stories. What are the odds of it _actually_ happening?

So then there's the clone theory. Why would someone clone Logan, though? As far as Chase knows, Logan has lived a fairly mundane life (he knows since he kinda… hackedtheschool'sdatabase, but that's besides the point). He was adopted at a young age, and currently lives in an apartment with his adoptive father. He manages a teen-operated kebab joint down at the mall and has all A's… nothing that raises a red flag. Plus, Logan would have had to have been cloned at birth in order for his duplicate to appear his same age.

Then again, it's entirely possible to _look_ normal and inconspicuous and be anything but. Chase and his siblings know _all_ about that. Maybe he _should_ keep an eye on "Logan."

Jack, on the other hand… he actually seems pretty suspicious. First there was the dodgeball that he threw in gym. No ball thrown by any normal human should go that fast, even for a baseball player. And even if he _had_ played baseball as a kid, baseballs and dodgeballs are two different objects; a baseball player wouldn't be used to the size or texture of a dodgeball, and would have to overcompensate to make up for the increased weight and increased air resistance that a dodgeball would entail.

Plus, the other teen had hesitated for a split second when asked about the ball that took out _Jerry freaking Martinez._ (Which is an amazing feat, since Chase had never witnessed the Latino get out before.) If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn't have noticed the hesitation, but to Chase it was just long enough to think up a lie.

Then there was the move the other teen had pulled with Deuce. Sure, a third degree black belt may have reflexes tuned to react like that in that situation, but really, only someone that's regularly in a situation where their senses should be in high alert would react like that to a simple clap on the shoulder. Jack had also downplayed his abilities, which is what someone who's used to not drawing attention to themself would do (or a really humble person, but considering the cocky tone of voice the teen in question had taken on when Deuce queried about what happened in the cafeteria, Chase doubts this is the case.)

Jack had also winced when the dismissal bell rang. From Chase the flinch makes sense; despite having conditioned himself to withstand the sound, it still catches him by surprise now and then. It might have been that the bell had startled the other teen, but Chase isn't so sure. There was a flash of _pain_ on the other male's face, not surprise.

Finally, there's the whole "déjà vu" vibe that Chase had gotten from the teen when seeing him for the first time in geometry. It could be that Chase had simply seen Logan in passing in the hallway and thought he recognized Jack, but he doesn't think so. The feeling was much stronger than that of just briefly seeing someone's face a couple times.

It occurs to Chase that he may be reading into the situation too much. Maybe Jack is just a normal guy who happens to look eerily similar to another student. Chase just isn't too keen on trusting new people after the Marcus fiasco.

Chase is snapped out of his little reverie when Donald laughs. " _Forget?_ Chase, you have the best memory in the entire _world._ Even if your conscious mind forgets someone, your subconscious stores everyone that you meet in your database. All you have to do is use your facial recognition app." The billionaire looks up from the random device he's tinkering with. "What brought this on?"

"Nothing," Chase replies, maybe a bit too quickly. "Just wondering."

Donald stares at the teen suspiciously. Chase smiles in a way that he hopes says 'I'm-innocent-that's-me-innocent-Chase-completely-innocent.' After a few moments, the inventor shrugs and goes back to whatever he was working on, which is… a a robotic forearm?

The elevator opens, and Adam, Bree, and Leo walk into the lab before Chase can ask his surrogate father about his latest invention. From what Chase can tell, his brother and stepbrother are bickering about the better of two fictional universes and Bree is rolling her eyes at both of them.

"DC is totally better," Chase and Mr. Davenport say simultaneously, causing Leo to squawk indignantly.

" _Wow,_ you guys, thanks for taking my side," the dark-skinned teen says sarcastically.

"But they didn't," Adam says, confused. "They took _my_ side."

Bree rolls her eyes. "You said you had a mission for us, Mr. Davenport?"

"Ah, yes," the man says, abandoning his project and walking over to the holo-desk. "It looks like there's a shipment of some sort coming in today, or at least a meeting to talk about it. You guys are going to do some recon and find out what's going on. Leo will be helping you."

"What?" Chase says, surprised, quickly forgetting to ask Davenport about the arm thing he's working on. "I mean, Leo's cool and all, but are you not going to be here?"

"No. I have a… meeting, that I gotta get to in a few minutes."

Chase raises an eyebrow at the hesitation, but doesn't comment. "Alright. What do we have to do?"

* * *

 **Seemingly abandoned warehouse in the woods, Chicago IL 9/3 4:33 PM**

Okay, not one of his _best_ mob hits.

Jack looks around at the mess he made, mentally scolding himself. Taking a full six minutes to take out only four lugs with guns? Unacceptable.

He finds himself swaying slightly and braces himself against a nearby pile of crates (knowing full well that one of the targets he just eliminated is buried somewhere under that pile) and huffs, annoyed at his own weakness.

His vision flashes. Suddenly, he's in an unfamiliar living room, his head in someone's lap as fingers gently card through his hair. But then, just as soon as the flash occurred, he's back in the transport warehouse. The headache is almost unbearable, and he keeps getting lightheaded and almost losing his balance. What in the actual heck was _that?!_ So he's hallucinating now, too?! He really has to have chat with JD.

 _'_ _Speaking of JD…'_ Jack blinks as orange text scrolls across his vision, a message from JD via his chip. _'PREPPED FOR CHIP REBOOT AND LIMB REPLACEMENT. WE'RE READY WHEN YOU GET BACK.'_

We? Is JD not doing this by himself? Now that Jack thinks about it, he supposes the 'billionaire benefactor' is there with him. Probably best to head out now and—

 _Crack!_

Jack's head snaps up towards the source of the sound, a window a distance away. _'What was that? Came from window, something is outside. Trees are relatively healthy, unlikely to be branch falling. Processing list of Seaford wildlife… Unlikely a bear, but has to be heavy judging by decibel of noise. Two distinctly erratic breathing patterns detected. Conclusion? Unexpected human presence(s).'_

His conclusion is only confirmed when he hears the sound of two pairs of running footsteps, along with panicked whisper-shouts. He groans in annoyance. As much as he wants to have JD check him out right now, he can't just ignore this new development. Irritation fuels his actions as he cracks his neck before stalking off in the direction of the door.

* * *

 **Hey, you guys! So these first few chapters are going to be a little expository-ish, and then chapters afterwards will (in theory) be structured more like individual episodes.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~BH**


	3. A Look at Our Resident Genius(es)

**Need your help! More info in bottom author's note. :)**

* * *

 **Underground Lab, Anderson Residence, Chicago, IL 9/3 4:33 PM**

"OOOH! What's that?!" Donald says excitedly, pointing at a sleek white cube that JD has on a nearby shelf.

 _'At least he has the gumption to know not to touch it,'_ the younger man thinks wryly. Aloud, JD says, "That's my L.A.M.P."

"Really? It doesn't look like much. What is it, a nightlight?"

"Not a source of light, lamp, a _L.A.M.P._. A 'Laser Action Music Player." At Davenport's raised eyebrow, JD waves his hand over the device, powering it on. The chorus of a Linkin Park song blasts out of the speakers. Donald winces at the volume, but JD stands unfazed and turns it off.

"Well, why do you call it a _Laser Action_ Music Player?"

JD turns it back on, this time making a different hand gesture over it. Immediately it resumes the song, this time accompanied by an impressive display of lasers that flash and jerk to the time of the music. It instantly gives the room more energy. (What? Despite what Jack or anyone else may think, JD can "loosen up" occasionally. Sue him.)

"I have _got_ to get me one of those! Heh heh, but ah," Donald straightens, his trademark 'I'm-totally-more-awesome-than-you' smirk on his face. "I'd have to reprogram it with the soothing sounds of my own voice."

"…what."

"Yep. I have an album."

"You're still just as self-centered as I recall."

"Thank you."

JD rolls his eyes at his narcissistic friend and walks over to his holo-desk.

"Awww, you modeled your lab after mine," Donald coos, ruffling JD's hair. The action is slightly awkward due to the fact that Davenport is shorter than the other scientist by a good half foot.

"Don't kid yourself. It's an efficient use of limited space that I happened to recognize the proficiency of," JD grumbles, ducking away from the other man's hand and running his own hand through his wild curls. And it's true; he'd modeled his lab after Davenport's, not because he looked up to the man or anything, but because the billionaire had a way of organizing his space so that everything had a place, and every place could easily be accessed.

Of course, in the case of someone breaking into the lab or something, JD had installed an extra security system that would pump a strong sedative into the air that's guaranteed to knock the person out for about twelve hours at least.

Or, in the case of Jack, five hours. Possibly six.

Either way, it should incapacitate the perpetrator long enough for JD to arrive and do something about it. Emphasis on _should._ He sure hopes it does. He was out for around fourteen hours back when he was still testing the stuff in his old lab. He had missed a meeting due to his… _unconsciousness,_ and Marissa immediately suspected the man he was supposed to be meeting with, George, kidnapped the JD or something. Poor George still nightmares of her… "interrogation."

Donald immediately gets situated in JD's favorite wheeled chair, making the taller man grit his teeth (it is, after all, JD's favorite chair). Instead of commenting, though, the younger scientist simply pulls up another (less comfortable) chair.

"So," Donald says, rolling around JD in circles. "It's been a while."

"Yes. It has." Almost a decade, JD realizes. Sure, the two had had the occasional correspondence to ask one another's professional opinion over a compound or invention parts or something, but they hadn't actually laid eyes on each other in more than a few years.

They'd first met when JD was kicked out of college for blowing up his entire dorm after an experiment gone horribly wrong. No one had gotten hurt (thank _God_ ), but the incident had put him on CARDINAL's radar. A group of agents had come and none-too-kindly picked him up from his rented apartment (since he'd blown up his dorm room) and, for lack of a better word, interrogated him.

That's where Davenport entered the picture. He'd managed to get JD off the hook with a promise that he'd keep an eye on him. In reality, the two of them became "science bros" (as Donald called the both of them) giving JD free reign over his lab to do whatever experimenting he wished (though, understandably, distancing him away from a young Adam, Bree, and Chase).

After a while, Donald had offered him a job at Davenport Industries, which JD accepted. Eventually, though, he got roped into working with CARDINAL, where he would eventually meet Marissa, and then later Jack.

"How'd you manage to screw Jack up so bad?"

Speaking of Jack. "I may have unintentionally shot him with a prototype tranquilizer."

Donald stops rolling and stares. "Wow. Not even _I_ have screwed up that bad… actually I probably have."

JD huffs. "You have _definitely_ 'screwed up that bad.' Remember the WaterLemon?"

"Oh, yeah. Heh heh. I'm not destined for genetic engineering."

"Which is ironic considering the three superhuman adolescents you currently reside with."

"Heh heh… moving on. I have the replacement arm—" Donald holds up said cybernetic limb. "—and since this tranq is dangerous to metal or whatever, then you should probably get him here so we can bio-shock his chip. Maybe install a self-repair app and have it coat itself in some sort of protective substance."

Wow. That's… "Interesting. A great idea, I dare say."

"I know! Full package right here. Rich, handsome, _and_ a genius." Donald flashes him a dazzling smile. JD is unimpressed. " _And_ I even cleared Logan's med records!"

What. "What."

"Well, Jack and Logan's chips work together. You said Jack's chip went into partial emergency shut down, which is part of why he was out so long right?"

"So Logan's would have done the same," JD breaths in realization. "And from what you told me, Logan is as social as one would expect someone his age to be… at four thirty in the afternoon he's bound to be around people. People that would have taken him to the hospital when he randomly passed out." JD groans, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "They would've done a CAT scan or MRI. Either of those would have easily picked up the chip's signals—"

"Oh, ye of little faith, how you underestimate me," Donald teases, earning a glare from the younger scientist. "Don't you think I would have thought of that? Logan is a growing boy. From the time that he left my care to now, he's bound to have ended up in the hospital sooner or later. Especially during his soccer phase."

He crosses his arms, tilting his chin up with a smug grin on his face. " _I_ set up a system that notifies me if he's ever in the hospital. If they do a CAT scan or something while he's there, then my system takes the results, alters them so that his chip isn't there, and then sends it back. The whole process takes about five minutes."

JD sighs, relieved. "Oh. Good, then."

"You're lucky that Logan's chip is silicon. An MRI could have killed him if it was metal like Jack's."

After a couple seconds of silence, Donald (uncharacteristically serious) says, "So… What's he like?"

JD already knows who the other man is talking about, but he isn't quite sure exactly what Donald wants to hear. "What do you want me to say?"

Donald stares at his hands. "I dunno… It's been _years_ since I last saw him. Just _…_ tell me about him."

"Well, he's… just as snarky and rebellious as you'd likely expect any other teenager his age to be." JD pauses, searching for words to describe the teen he'd been looking over for the past eight years.

"He can't eat or be in the presence of strawberries for some odd reason. His chip went haywire the one time he did, and he shut down for a day and a half. It was a long time ago, I'm not even sure he remembers it, but he knows he doesn't like them and gets nauseas or feels pain with prolonged exposure."

"…this is a teenage _superspy_ , and his weakness is _strawberries?"_

"Everyone has a weakness."

"But… _strawberries?"_

"Shut up," JD deadpans as the other man starts laughing. When the chuckles subside, JD continues. "He doesn't play pranks often, but when he does they're… _interesting,_ to say the least _._ Like, he once replaced everyone's desktop picture with a photoshopped one of a giraffe surfing on a dolphin and cussing in Swedish." He chuckles at the memory. There was no way to prove that Jack did it, but everyone knows he did.

"He's extremely protective of his hair," the scientist continues. "One of the other agents played this little joke on April Fool's one year, where he had some brown extensions that matched Jack's hair color, and he went into Jack's room while he was reading or something. Jack had headphones on, so he didn't hear the man come in. Anyways, we'd had a camera set up so we could all watch Jack's reaction. The guy tiptoes in pretends to cut some off Jack's hair and… Jack just kinda sat there for a minute, but then he calmly got up, found the camera somehow, and disabled it. When we finally got the camera back online, he was sitting there in the exact same position as he was before the other agent went in… but there was no one else in the room."

JD shivers slightly, remembering the blank but terrifying look on Jack's face right before the camera cut out. "The man was found in a storage closet a week later, bound, gagged, wearing nothing but his underwear and covered in sewer water and cactus thorns. Needless to say, no one messed with Jack's hair again after that."

Donald's eyebrows are high on his forehead in surprise, awe, and a bit of fear. "What did Jack do to the guy?"

"No one knows. Neither of them talked about it, and everyone was honestly too scared to ask. Though, the thorns were from a really rare species of cactus found only in a remote Chinese desert, and the guy _did_ look a little tanner now that I think about it…" JD shakes his head. "Jack can be terrifying when he's angry. Who knows exactly what he can accomplish?"

"Uh, shouldn't _you_ know?"

"When he's mad, _genuinely_ mad, there's no predicting him."

"Ooook, then."

JD thinks some more, before his expression sobers. "He's gone through some pretty bad experiences. His trust issues stem mostly from something that happened a couple years ago. It was an honest mistake, given his age, but he's never forgiven himself for it…"

"What happened?"

JD shakes his head. "It's his story."

Donald pouts. "Come on. Tell me, please?"

JD glances at his watch and realizes what time it is. "No… we really need to get him here."

* * *

 **So! How was it? I know this was kinda filler but it's important. I think. Anyway.**

 **Do I need to explain JD and Marissa more? Since they're my OCs and all, I 've kinda got them all characterized in my head, but I dunno if I'm communicating that characterization enough. Then again, it's only the third chapter.**

 **What I need help with: storyline/story arc ideas? I'm not normally the person to go asking for plot ideas from other people, but I'm kinda stuck. Like, you guys know how each episode of _Lab Rats_ has its own storyline, but oftentimes they're encompassed within an overall story arc? For example, you have the "Concert in a Can" storyline in which Adam and Chase befriend a suspicious new kid while Bree tries to bond with Davenport, but the Marcus story arc also starts in this episode and spans from the end of season 1 and ends some point in season 2.**

 **I kinda wanna do that in this story, if that makes any sense. Like, each chapter should have its own story line, but there should be an overall arc. I have a couple arc ideas, but I need chapter storylines. So I'm totally open to suggestions.**

 **Thanks so much! :D Until next update,**

 **~BH**


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